


Another Day in Atlas

by Gravatea, Zaphire



Category: RWBY
Genre: Atlas - Freeform, Gen, Pre-RWBY, dust - Freeform, semblance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravatea/pseuds/Gravatea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaphire/pseuds/Zaphire
Summary: The Kingdom of Atlas has fallen victim to an epidemic of random thefts and wanton mischief.  Yet the culprit involved still finds their day lacking, bored and melancholic, until...Written entirely by my friend Zaphire using my OC.





	Another Day in Atlas

It was another dreary day in the Kingdom of Atlas, the sky overcast by gray as its citizens went about their commute. The chilly air was accompanied by the fall of snow, a natural everyday occurrence in the northern continent of Solitas. Bundled up pedestrians walked to and fro along the sidewalks, absent of any snow or frost thanks to their self-heating nature. It was not the first time that one thanked Oum for the wonder that was Atlas tech, but the graceful flurry of snowflakes that fell to meet their demise were ignorant of such sentiments. A variety of open storefronts, ready for the consumption of currency, faced the street, their display windows vying for the people’s attention and hard-earned Lien. One of these displays held a wall of television sets, flat screens currently blaring the afternoon news for all to hear.

_“–ilitary still refuses to comment on the recent rash of thefts, burglaries, and break-ins that have befallen the people of Atlas. Some theorize that the White Fang is somehow responsible for this upsurge of crime, yet others claim to have seen a mysterious figure in gray fleeing the area. Sadly this is all the information we have at the moment. Back to you, Robin.”_

_“Well, Jasmine,”_ chuckled a man in a navy blue suit, tapping his stack of papers against his desk, _“It seems we have ourselves a caper of the gray caliber. I’m sure they’ll stick out in all this snow. Speaking of snow, here’s the weather report with Steele Bane. Steele?”_

But before any of the pedestrians, who had been passing by in a state of zombie-like disinterest, could get an earful of the monotonous snowfall that would be in their future, their attention was drawn instead towards a disturbance along the sidewalk. A bedraggled figure ran by the electronics store in a state of hurry and distress, a group of soldiers and Atlesian Knight-130s hot on their tail. The figure was clad all in gray, from their gray hoodie down to their gray cargo pants, their pockets bulging in places. There was even a cloth of the same color covering the lower half of their face, bringing attention to the pair of bright green eyes currently widened in panic.

“Stop, thief! By Atlas military decree, you are under arrest,” screamed a soldier, the snarl on his lips being the only part of his body visible underneath his metallic white armor, yellow accents cluing in the public that he was from the security branch of the military.

Instead of stopping as ordered, the presumed thief made a quick turn at the next corner, unholstering the weapon at their side as they dodged into an alleyway. Pulling a trigger on the hilt, the thief’s weapon, a sword that looked to have been cobbled together from Atlas tech, extended and curved outward like a whip, piercing a pipe that ran along the side of a building. Steam spewed forth, blocking the path for the soldiers pursuing their would-be culprit. But not the metal automatons that accompanied them.

One of the AK-130s, its cold and featureless head targeting the fleeing figure, stepped through the steam, ignoring the scalding heat as it raised its arms towards the masked individual, transforming them into a pair of automatic guns. As its targeting reticle focused on the hooded rogue, the barrel of its guns revolving faster and faster, moments away from firing on them, the figure was met with a stone wall, 8 feet in height with a dumpster pressed up against it. A dead end.

Just not for the thief, apparently, as they fluidly climbed up the dumpster and over the wall, but not before being hit by a burst of bullets from the AK-130. Grunting in pain, an Aura briefly rippled into existence around the figure as it took damage from the slew of bullets. Yet despite the injury to their Aura, they still managed to fall into a practiced roll that had them running again. Ears beneath the hood perked up at the sound of cursing from behind, and a smirk pulled up at the mouth that was currently hidden behind their gray cloth as they headed towards the exit up ahead.

But as they turned the corner, confident in their escape, they were immediately set upon by another group of soldiers and AK-130s. They had been laying in wait for the thief behind the building’s corner, a coordinated trap that had been all-too-easily stepped into. Pistols drawn and metal fists bared in their direction, the thief carefully backed up into the alley from which they had exited, thoughts fervently engineering their immediate escape. But before any hint of a plan could be implemented, the thief felt a tight grip on their left arm, and so turned their head to see the AK-130 that they had fled just recently. It must have managed to climb past the wall. Gulping, the thief made a slight, yet painful, adjustment to their plan of action.

Grip tightening around the handle of their sword, the weary thief pressed the primary trigger, flipping upward as the sword extended yet again. At this action, the pistols trained on the thief fired, their Aura rippling, then shattering, finally depleted. Thankfully, the most damage received from this onslaught was a close scrape above one of the thief’s eyes, blood now running down their partially obscured face. Still, the sword whipped outward in a curving arc, striking the pistols out from the solders’ hands as the hooded figure ripped their arm out of the mechanical grasp of the AK-130 behind them, using the force of their backwards flip. Landing behind the robot, the thief’s sword retracted, steel cables pulling back the segmented blade pieces as they wrapped fast around the AK-130’s head.

In a contest of Atlas-engineered metal versus Atlas-engineered metal, the robot’s neck buckled first, and the segmented sword decapitated the soulless automaton, deactivating it. Striking out with their sword for a third time, the dexterous thief pulled the secondary trigger along with the first. Whipping towards the collection of pursuers, frost collected along the cable’s expanse, traveling towards the tip’s edge as it lightly struck each individual. Upon contact, the dust-powered whip attack froze them in their places, their features frozen in ice.

With both entrances of the alleyway blocked to them, one by steam, the other by a living wall of ice, the thief looked about, desperately searching for a quick exit. When their bloodied eyes landed on a nearby fire escape, they quickly put thought to action, their left arm hanging limp, dead weight as they jumped up to grab the hanging ladder with their other arm. Grunting in pain, the thief just managed to pull themselves up the ladder and climb the stairs up to their highest point. Opening a window, the mysterious figure climbed in, barging past a newly-wed couple currently in the middle of their “honeymoon” and sending them into a panic.

Dodging the flurry of thrown items sent their way, all the while refusing to look at the two, the thief ran out of the apartment, but not before the couple managed to get a lucky hit in on their covered head. With a shoe. Grunting again in pain, the thief, wounded in both body and pride, climbed up the stairway and all the way up to the roof. As the door slammed behind them, the hooded figure finally took a moment to breathe.

Pulling down both the gray hood and the mouth covering, gray tresses fell around the face of a young teenage girl, fox ears of the same color twitching as they were finally freed from the confines of her hood. Bright and curious green eyes took in her current surroundings, a barren rooftop, its edges surrounded by a metal fence, bars probably put in place to keep the corporate drones from getting any unhealthy ideas.

“Okay, Gill,” said the girl, briefly closing her eyes and breathing out, “Get it together, girl. You finally lost ‘em...hopefully.” Walking towards one corner of the roof, her left arm hanging limp at her side, the exhausted Faunus that was Gillian Grey leaned against the barred fence, her shoulder throbbing in agony. Growling softly to herself, she attempted to roll her shoulder but immediately felt a white-hot lance of pain coursing through it. “Bah. That’s what I get for yanking myself out of a clanker’s grip,” she mumbled, sighing. “A dislocated shoulder for my trouble.”

Those military goons had been insistent in their pursuit of the young Faunus girl, going so far as to bring Atlesian Knights into the situation. That one in particular seemed to have a death-grip on her, it was clutching so tight. She could only thank her lucky stars that there hadn’t been too many of them. That, and the new model she’d heard whispered rumors about hadn’t been completed yet. That probably would’ve made the situation ten times worse.

She sunk into a sitting position, her back sliding against the fence as she took this moment to rest her weary feet. Grunting in frustration at both the situation and her current state, Gillian huffed in annoyance, her ears pulled back as she asked herself, “Who takes a couple of apples gone missing so seriously? Today of all days...” The wounded girl looked up at the overcast sky, snowflakes falling without a care in the world, unlike the one currently observing them in all their beauty. “I just wanted to take some food back to the shelter...”

In a sudden motion, she stood straight up from her seat on the ground, her rest forgotten as disbelief at her misfortune coursed through her, ears now flattened against her head. “I mean, can’t they spare a few apples for the needy? And it’s not like that company man can’t make _more_ Lien. And who’s to say that lady needed that sapphire encrusted silver necklace anyway?” She winced as her shoulder throbbed yet again, the pain reminding her of her present circumstances. “Gah...those military goons seem to have it in for me lately,” she said, hissing in agony.

“I wonder why?” she honestly asked herself.

Paying the thought no further mind, she hung her head in disappointment, the cut above her left eye still bleeding down the side of her face as she nestled her head further into the ever-present gray cloth currently acting as her makeshift scarf. As its warmth began to envelop the lower half of her face, the cloth’s familiar and comforting scent, now mixed with the scent of her own blood, filtered out to her nose, eliciting painful memories of the past. Using the only working hand she had available to herself, Gillian gently rubbed at the pewter band that pierced her right ear, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.

“...Happy 14th Birthday, Gill...”

With her personal pity party now drawing to a close, Gillian decided it was time to take full stock of her injuries. “Bruised wrist, a couple of scrapes and cuts, a dislocated shoulder...and my head still hurts from that shoe...” Ignoring the blow to her pride, she used her good arm to grab up her precious weapon, Empress Taijitu, and ejected the cartridge. Empty. “Aaaand I’m out of dust, too. Great,” she said, hitting the back of her head against the fence for a moment. But that movement only served to remind her of the state of her left shoulder. “Okay, I _really_ need to get that fixed. No time like the present, I guess.”

Stepping away from the fence, she bit her lip, thinking aloud, “Okay, uh, how did the doc on site do it again?” She stared at the arm, still hanging limp at her side, unresponsive. “Let’s see, something about ‘pull, but don’t jerk’...I think...” Apprehension for what she was about to do began to trickle forth, but she shook her head free of it. It was better to do it now than later. “Okay Gill, relax. Just...relax. You can do this, right?” She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she nodded, dread weighing heavily on her mind. “Right.”

Gripping her left arm, she grimaced in pain as she braced it against the fence, making it so that its fingers tightly grasped one of the sturdy metal bars. Gillian took a deep breath in, then released it, repeating the process.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  Then she began to step back, her left hand still grasping tight on the bar as she slowly began to pull, agony ripping through her nerves to tear at her mind.

“AAAAAAGH!”

_Pop!_

Tears leaked down her cheeks as her shoulder finally popped into place, and all felt right in the world again as sweet relief overwhelmed her thoughts. “Oooooh, that sucked,” she groaned. “Sucked so much. How does Spruce Willis do it?”

“We have you surrounded! Hands on your head!”

“Awww, crud,” moaned the Faunus girl. The soldiers must have managed to sneak up on her in all her screaming. Carefully, she brought the cloth back over her mouth, then slowly raised her hands behind her head, her left shoulder still stinging as she pulled the hood over herself and turned around. She didn’t want them to get a good look at her face.

With her back to the fence, Gillian took in the small army of Atlas soldiers and robots, a sea of stun batons, pistols, and assault rifles trained on her person. She was trapped and cornered, like a wounded animal.

“Drop your weapon. Now,” ordered one of the soldiers, his rifle centered on her chest.

Ears flattening beneath the weight of her hood, her green eyes narrowed at him as she spat out, “Go screw yourself.” And then a smirk came to roost on her face. “Like I did your mom.”

The soldier, sputtering and bewildered, asked, “...W-what did you say?”

“You heard me. By the way, she’s a big fan of the robo-dildo,” taunted the thoughtless lass. “Thinks it’s the bee’s knees.”

Scowling, the damage to his dignity done, the soldier, his finger hovering over the trigger of his rifle, shouted out, “Open fire!”

The barrage of guns opened fire, the flash of their muzzles causing her to flinch away from the sight, and with no Aura to protect her, Gillian suspected she wouldn’t have to worry about flashing muzzles in her near future, a sensation of emptiness beginning to fill her being.

She waited. And waited. Waiting for the pain, waiting for the afterlife, waiting to see those that she had held dear. Opening her eyes, she looked down, expecting to see her torso perforated and letting in daylight, but all she saw was her chest, breathing rapidly and strangely lacking in holes. “Wha-what’s going on?” the Faunus girl asked, whether it was to herself or the confused and alarmed men, she wasn’t quite sure. “What...just happened?”

Stepping back in shock, and expecting for her back to hit against the fence, she once again felt that emptiness, this time accompanied by the sensation of falling through the world. She fell from the rooftop, phasing through the barrier as her vision began to fill not with the sky, but the ground that was swiftly coming closer and closer. Her life, for however short it had been, began to flash through her mind’s eye, memories of what had brought her here, falling to her death.

_A pickax being shoved into her hands, fingers so small they could barely wrap full around its handle._

_Her mother, collapsed after a coughing fit. The doctor said it was from Dust exposure._

_Her father, beaten and broken after he was caught stealing medicine for her mother. He had died from his injuries that night._

_Mother, wasting away with no one left to care for her but her daughter. On the eve of her birthday, she gave Gillian her pewter earring, a final gift._

_Her first string of thefts, which would eventually birth the first incarnation of her precious baby, Empress Taijitu, improvised from Atlas mining tech. She had escaped that very night, refusing to be a slave any longer._

That will, that desire to be free, broke her out from her slew of memories and she grit her teeth, screaming, “No! No, no, no, no. I refuse!”

Determined green eyes latched onto the side of the building, and she focused, gripping her weapon. Pressing the trigger, she whipped the sword forth with all of her might, its cable extending outward until the tip managed to dig into the side of the building. The sudden force with which her fall ceased nearly dislocated her other shoulder. Even so, she still breathed a sigh of relief. She would live another day.

_Crack._

Looking up at the sound, she felt a sickening sensation develop in the pit of her stomach as her eyes snapped onto the tip of her weapon, which was currently in the act of dislodging itself from its purchase.

“Oum dammit.”

She fell.

Into a dumpster, brimming with garbage.

Groaning, with her senses reeling from both the fall _and_ the smell, she sluggishly pulled herself over the edge of the dumpster and onto the ground, gasping for sweet, delicious fresh air.

Knowing that there was no time to rest, Gillian wearily stood up, both physically and mentally exhausted. “Well, as birthdays go...this isn’t half bad.” She limped out into the city, her thoughts mulling over this new discovery. She had a new toy to play with.

“Think of the pranks I could pull with this...”

And so cemented the beginning of the Gray Caper’s story.


End file.
